


If You Like Your Coffee Hot

by marauders_groupie



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Childhood Friends, F/M, Fluff and Angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-29
Updated: 2016-05-29
Packaged: 2018-07-10 20:56:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,867
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7006510
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/marauders_groupie/pseuds/marauders_groupie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>They haven't been friends for a very long time but Bellamy still can't ignore Clarke acting out and getting into fights when she was a model student just a few months ago. They might’ve kept each other at distance for years but she is still his first best friend. </p><p>Featuring: childhood friends, punk Clarke wanting to fight the whole world, car rides, a dash of angst, a whole lot of nostalgia and two dorks falling in love.</p><p>Happy birthday, Michelle!</p>
            </blockquote>





	If You Like Your Coffee Hot

**Author's Note:**

  * For [katebishoop](https://archiveofourown.org/users/katebishoop/gifts).



> MICHELLE, MA BELLE, I WISH YOU THE HAPPIEST OF BIRTHDAYS! I HOPE YOU GET A LOT OF PLANTS, I HOPE YOU MAKE INSPIRATION YOUR BITCH AND I HOPE ALL YOUR DREAMS COME TRUE! YOU WONDERFUL PLANT MOTHER, YOU DESERVE THE BEST! <33
> 
> That being said - it's [Michelle](http://bellakeyblake.tumblr.com)/[katebishoop's](http://archiveofourown.org/users/katebishoop) birthday today so go congratulate her on being born and congratulate yourselves for being born in the same century! This kid is gonna go places and her fics kick ass!
> 
> My dear Michelle, I hope you'll like this one. I thought about what to write and ultimately I remembered you liking childhood friends, healing and crying about Bellarke. I promise there'll be no tears in this fic because you need some fluff in your life, okay? Okay! I love you!
> 
> Enjoy!

Bellamy can’t, for the life of him, understand what Clarke Griffin’s deal is.

Here she is now, sitting in front of principal Kane’s office, holding an ice pack to her swollen left cheek, and glaring at nothing in particular. Which is basically what she does these days. She glares and picks fights. It wouldn’t be weird, if it wasn’t for the fact that she was a model student just two months ago.

They haven’t been friends for a very long time but it still feels wrong to see her like this – jaw raised in defiance and fury simmering beneath her skin. Not when he remembers her as a seven year old who told him off when he was acting like a jerk.

 “You should learn to pick your battles, Princess,” he says. Out of courtesy. Definitely not because he cares.

That seems to attract her attention and she drawls, “Please, tell me more. I can’t wait to hear the latest Sun Tzu bullshit you’ve come up with.”

He frowns, feeling uneasy under her intense stare. “Cute. But I’m serious. This is the third time this week.”

“Didn’t know you’ve been keeping tabs on me,” she mutters, but there’s a smile playing in the corner of her mouth.

Bellamy hasn’t been keeping tabs on her but it’s not hard to notice, seeing as he works in the principal’s office after school, filing papers and helping students after hours.

He skips her question, poses his own. “Who’d you punch now?”

“Who says I punched someone?” she shoots back, gets an eyebrow raise out of him. “Mbege.”

 “Why?”

“I’m karma’s little helper.”

That, at least, makes him laugh and he rounds the desk, pushing his glasses up on the bridge of his nose. “Somehow I don’t get the feeling Kane will be impressed.”

“Do I look like a give a shit?”

“No, you really don’t,” he admits, frowning. If it weren’t for the bruise on her cheek and the worn leather jacket slung over her shoulders, she’d look exactly like the Clarke Griffin he used to know – straight As, loads of friends, tutoring sessions for students in need, captain of the school’s soccer team. “Shit, Griffin, what happened?”

She opens her mouth to reply and that’s the exact moment Kane chooses to open his door, motioning her forward. He’s eternally exasperated, that man, and Bellamy thinks he probably cares much more than he lets on.

The same could be said for Clarke. But she’s still in the office after 4 pm rolls around and Bellamy does his best not to think about it on his way home. It can’t be that big of a deal.

 

*

 

Over the next few days, Bellamy doesn’t really keep track of Clarke, but he still can’t help but to notice how she sits alone at lunch, her feet on the table until a teacher passes by (she lowers them and then gets them up again, making everyone around her laugh), the visible lack of the gym bag she used to carry around and the amount of classes she cuts.

He knows next to nothing about this new Clarke. He knows the old Clarke, the one who ripped her baby canine tooth out, the one who came to their elementary school in a neat little dress, only to have it covered in dirt over and over again until her mom must’ve given up and started sending her in overalls, and he knows how much she laughed with Wells Jaha and him.

Then came middle school, Bellamy a year older than Clarke. She stopped being a frequent guest in the Blakes’ little blue house at the end of the town, and in high school, he replaced her with Murphy and Miller, feeling just a little guilty. They were kids, it wasn’t like she’d remember.

And judging by the way she confusedly looks at him when he joins her on the bleachers after school one day, she doesn’t.

“What now?”

Bellamy takes a seat next to her, ignoring how she bristles in an instant. An unlit cigarette is dangling from her fingertips and her hair is a mess. At least _that_ hasn’t changed and it makes him feel weirdly nostalgic.

But it also makes him remember how she never put up with his shit so he’s going to return the favor.

“Cut the crap, Griffin. I know you wet the bed until you were nine years old and I don’t care if you’re fooling everyone else – you don’t fool _me_. What the fuck is happening?”

There’s a split second in which he’s sure she’s going to punch him. And then she rolls her eyes and leans back, propping her feet on the seat in front of them. “I’m not trying to fool anyone.”

“I asked a question.”

She shoots him a glare, fishing out a fluorescent pink lighter out of her jeans’ pocket and lighting her cigarette up. Bellamy snatches it, puts it out on the sole of his shoe. “Those things are going to kill you.”

That’s exactly what she told him when she saw him after he started high school. He thought he was hot shit, drinking beer in the back of Murphy’s truck in the parking lot of the local 7/11, and Clarke marched up to him. The tips of his ears burned a furious red after she was done and he never picked up a cigarette again.

“Smartass,” she shoots back, getting a packet full of Marlboro reds out of her backpack. Bellamy huffs, annoyed, and she grins at him. “I’m stress-smoking, I’ll quit.”

“Why not quit now?”

“I thought you wanted to know what’s wrong.”

She always was too smart for her own good. Stubborn, too. It’s still the same Clarke inside, except this one’s grown thorns on her skin, but he can deal with that. He’s pretty sure he can still buy her love with a chocolate milkshake.

Some things never change.

“Yeah,” he confirms. “I do want to know because you’re not acting like yourself.”

“And why do you care?”

_Because I remember the kid you used to be – self-righteous, entitled, on her shining white horse, a crown all but perched on top of your head._

_Because I can see how angry you are but it’s not going to fix anything._

He doesn’t say that. Instead, he says, “We used to be friends. Maybe I’ve missed you.”

Clarke takes a drag, blows out smoke in neat little circles that make him wonder when she learned that trick. Was it before or after a soccer practice? Was it before or after he first passed her in the hallway and forgot to say hi?

“Yeah, Bell, I missed you, too.”

He smiles at the mention of his old nickname. No one calls him that but Octavia these days, and Octavia’s got a mind of her own, running with some new kids and barely enough time to talk to her brother. He’s probably too young to feel like these damn kids are growing up too fast but he’s always been sort of grown up and it’s weird to see that happening to everyone else.

Clarke turns to face him and smiles, just this tiny little smile that doesn’t even showcase her perfect white teeth, and there’s no light behind it, but it’s something. It makes him drape an arm around her shoulders and pull her in, ruffling her hair.

“I knew Clarke was in there somewhere. I’m glad you weren’t replaced by a pod person after all.”

She groans but doesn’t move away. Instead, his clothes reek of cigarette smoke and apple-scented shampoo by the time they’re through reliving their playground adventures. He gave her a title – Princess – and he called himself the Rebel King.

“We used to be so pathetic,” she says, but she’s grinning.

“We were awesome, come on. You’re just jealous I left to conquer new playgrounds.”

“You mean the middle school one?” She smirks. “Yeah, I can see how that worked out for you.”

It didn’t. At all. But that’s sort of his fault. After his mom died, he had to take care of Octavia, and suddenly all the parties and all the guys and girls throwing themselves at him didn’t hold the same appeal. Not when he knew that there was somebody who actually depended on him.

Clarke was there, at the funeral, but she was sitting two rows behind him, and all he remembers is a moment in which their eyes met. She didn’t express her condolences, not even once, but her eyes said it all.

That was a year ago.

And now they’re sitting on the bleachers as the sun sets and Clarke clears her throat. It feels like the last calm before the storm.

“My dad is sick.”

And there it is. The reason. Finding out doesn’t even make him satisfied. It just makes him feel small and sad, to see her curling up, pulling her knees into her chest and leaning her chin on them, just like when she was eight.

“Clarke – “

“Please don’t say you’re sorry. I’ve heard enough of that.”

He nods. “I know. So what do you need?”

There are tears welling in her eyes when she looks at him and that is enough to make him want to hug her and never let go. They might’ve kept each other at distance for years but she’s still his first best friend. He still wants to show her that she’s not alone and it seems like that’s all she thinks she is right now.

“How does a friend sound?”

Bellamy smiles. “I can do that.”

 

*

 

Being friends with Clarke again turns out to be just like not having seen her for a weekend and being eager to go on new adventures together. Some things are different, of course, like the fact that she loves putting up her muddy boots on the dashboard of his car and playing loud and angry tunes. She smiles at him sometimes, knowing full well how annoying she is.

“You know you love me, Blake,” she says, throwing her head back in a laugh.

And Bellamy doesn’t deny it because he loves the kid Clarke who offered her hand to him, pulled him up from the dirt, and the kid Clarke who threatened to punch snobby Cage Wallace when he made fun of Bellamy’s clothes. So why wouldn’t he love this Clarke, who still stands in protection of Charlotte Meyers when Mbege teases her for crying, and marches into the principal’s office with a cut on her cheek and a smile on her face.

After school, she throws herself into his car, turns the radio on, and they just drive for a while. He’s got work and he’s pretty sure she’s got _something_ , but they put the world on hold during that one hour.

“How’s Octavia?” she asks one day, clutching her backpack to her chest. It’s a bad day, her dad has a checkup and she’s cut all of her classes. When Bellamy found her behind the bleachers, her voice was hoarse from all the cigarettes she’d smoked.

“Kicking middle school’s ass,” he replies, taking a right turn. “She’s not getting into fights anymore.”

The thing is – when Octavia got into fights it looked strangely like Clarke is doing now. All teeth and anger, a façade to cover up feeling helpless.

“That’s good,” she comments absent-mindedly, eyes fixed on the crack in his windshield. “You don’t have to do this, you know? I’ll survive – I know you have better things to do than fixing my problems.”

Bellamy pulls over, unlatches his seatbelt and looks at her. “Is that what you think this is? That I’m trying to fix your problems?”

She nods, wild hair barely held up in a bun by two pencils.

“That’s not what this is. Clarke, you’re my friend. I told you already. I just want to help.”

And if spending time with him helps, then he’s going to clear out his schedule for her. College apps can wait until nighttime. At least his diner job is getting him endless supply of coffee.

She needs him now and that’s all he’s ever needed to hear. Maybe it’s ridiculous and maybe he’s wrong, but Bellamy really thinks that there are moments in which she forgets everything that is weighing down on her.

Just yesterday she’d laughed like he hasn’t heard her in ages when he mentioned that she still has his Spiderman boxer shorts, the ones he lent to her when they were nine.

As if coming to a silent decision, Clarke squares her shoulders and turns to face him, steel in her gaze. “Then I’m going to help you, too. College apps and scholarships? I got that shit on lock. We’re doing this, Bellamy.”

It probably shouldn’t make his heart flip but it still does. Clarke Griffin is trying to help _him_.

“Damn, Griffin, we might become friends again, after all.”

Her responding grin is bright enough to keep him going for days.

 

*

 

Another thing that’s the exact same – Clarke Griffin is a bit of an asshole. She always was, even when they were eight and she’d get the best crayons by flashing her baby blues at their teacher, Ms. Sterling.

But now she’s charming the pants off his boss, Shumway, and when she’s done talking to the man who has never once _smiled_ at Bellamy, she sits down at the counter of the diner with a shit-eating grin and announces, “Got you a weekend off, all paid.”

Bellamy sputters, takes a sip of his coffee and then asks, “ _How_?”

“You remember that time we took the Sorting quiz?”

Bellamy nods, remembering how she nearly stabbed him in the eye with her plastic replica of Hermione Granger’s wand.

“You remember how you were sorted in Gryffindor?” Another nod, and then her grin widens. “Yeah, well, I’m a Slytherin through and through.”

With that, she pours herself some coffee, waves at Shumway (who waves back, what the fuck what the fuck what _the_ \- ) and smiles sweetly at Bellamy.

“How did you even live without me?”

Bellamy shakes his head, incredulous. “I’m starting to ask myself the same thing, honestly.”

Winter rolls around and they stop going on long rides, holing up in the diner instead. Clarke claims the last booth as her own and colonizes the table with her textbooks and a laptop that’s got a Van Gogh decal on it.

She’s mentioned that she paints now and Bellamy wasn’t surprised. Hair like liquid gold fit for a princess, clean dresses gone dirty by the end of the day and paint smudges always were a good description of Clarke Griffin he used to know.

When there’s a lot of customers and Bellamy can’t do anything but flash apologetic looks, she busts out her sketchpad and proceeds to be gone for the world. He realizes that it’s what Clarke Griffin in her element looks like; headphones on, pencils out and the world off.

Jake Griffin starts getting better and soon enough he gets the go ahead to come home. The day Clarke finds out the news, she hugs Bellamy so tightly he swears his ribs crack.

“I’m sorry, it’s my dad – he’s better!”

With that, Wells Jaha and Raven Reyes start joining them for lunch, where they were once wary of this new and strange Clarke. She’s told him how she wouldn’t return their calls when their sympathy and the desire to help got too much, but with the snow returning, so does their friendship.

It’s awkward at first – they’re a ragtag bunch with different interests; Raven is the head of the young inventors club, Wells excels at debate, Clarke is weird and brilliant, and Bellamy – well, Bellamy’s mostly trying to get by.

It proves to be an impossible mission because the other three attract enough attention for the school’s hallways to overflow with chatter about the unlikely friend group, but it’s not all bad. Clarke always finds a way to tuck herself into his side, their casual affection evolving into something that tastes different, but not in a bad way.

Most of the time, Bellamy has no idea what the fuck is going on.

But he doesn’t mind until they’re in Jaha’s mansion, Raven appearing on the door with her famous words, “I brought tequila.”

It shouldn’t surprise him that they play truth or dare, and it shouldn’t surprise him that Clarke drinks more than she can handle, ending up with her head in his lap before midnight.

“I’m glad you’re here,” she tells him, alcohol slurring her speech a little. Her eyes are closed, but she’s smiling contently. “I’m glad we’re friends.”

“Yeah, me, too,” he replies, unable to suppress a smile of his own he knows she’s not going to see. It still feels like a betrayal in a way because his heart flips at the sight of her hair, like a halo around her head, wearing a sweater three sizes too big and looking happy for the first time.

Clarke hums to a tune of a song playing on the radio and then opens her eyes, something inexplicable in her gaze when she looks at him. Almost fond, how she untangles his hand from where he’d been playing with her hair, and links their fingers together.

“I – “

It is then that Raven and Wells decide to burst into the living room, carrying crates of wine Jaha Senior had stored in his cellar. They’re looking at each other mischievously and Bellamy wonders how long it’s going to take the two of them to realize how oblivious and hopeless they are.

“Guess who got more booze!”

Clarke sits up instantly, making grabby hand motions at the crate, and Wells indulges her, handing her a bottle of red that’s too old and too good to be spilled on a bunch of teens chasing their first hangovers.

But she shares the bottle with Bellamy and he doesn’t mind that much. Raven gets obnoxious dubstep playing and Wells turns the TV on.

“I’m glad we’re all good,” the boy says, smiling at Bellamy in particular. Wells Jaha has always been easy to befriend, his loyalty the unwavering sort that feels like someone is always on your side. “And welcome back, Blake. We thought we lost you.”

“Nah,” Clarke interjects, smiling at Bellamy. “He’s a sucker for us.”

Raven’s eyes flash at Bellamy, like she’s sensing blood. In a couple of years, Octavia is going to be just like her, Bellamy knows it. “Yeah. For _us_.”

Clarke lets it slide, downs what’s left in the bottle, calls for more. That night, they find out that Bellamy knows all the lyrics to Taylor Swift, Wells goes on ‘fuck the straights’ rants, Raven cries and pets Clarke’s hair when she gets drunk, and Clarke –

Well, Clarke pulls at the sleeves of her sweater and smiles her brightest after Bellamy’s told her that she’s his favorite. That’s what he finds out.

And it’s enough.

 

*

 

Clarke gets whisked off to Aspen with her parents and the Jahas for the holidays and she doesn’t stop texting him. Sometimes it’s a bunch of random emojis or drunken selfies with Wells. Sometimes it’s Bellamy trying to say how much he misses her without using that exact words.

Bellamy spends time with Octavia who teases him mercilessly. She remembers Clarke as a blonde who helped her paint her toenails pink and who always brought cookies. She’s not too far off.

“Have you asked her out yet?”

She’s thirteen and her world pretty much consists of boy bands, sleepovers and crushes. Bellamy’s happy she gets the chance to do that.

“We’re friends, O.”

His sister hums. “Sure, Bell. Just keep telling yourself that.”

When she sees Clarke again on the night when their regular babysitter couldn’t come and so they had to change their plan from driving around to staying in, Bellamy knows he won’t hear the end of it.

Somehow, they make fast friends, and their friendship mostly bases on making fun of him.

“But did you know that he’s still got his stuffed animals?” Octavia tells Clarke, the two of them sitting cross-legged on the living room floor that hasn’t changed one bit since Clarke came over last.

Clarke grins teasingly. “Does he now?”

“Mm. And he’s got all your presents!”

Bellamy ducks his head, trying to cover his cheeks burning up, but it’s impossible because Octavia points it out. “See! I’m not lying – he’s blushing!”

The presents aren’t anything more than Clarke’s attempts at drawing, flower crowns that withered away with time and assorted trinkets, like puppet theatre stubs and Coke bottle caps. It’s nothing.

But Clarke still smiles happily at him and makes him show her, frantically grabbing at his fingers until he caves in and takes her to her room, sees her lips part in silent surprise, and the words “Nothing has changed” roll over her lips.

It’s a lie. A lot has changed. But the way Clarke Griffin fits, in his room and in her pink sweater, with her hair in a braid like it used to be when they were kids – no. Time might have changed a lot of things, but it hasn’t changed the feeling of rightness, of belonging he sees when he looks at her.

They discover the trinkets he keeps in a shoebox under his bed later on, but first Clarke cracks his window open and invites him out onto the rooftop. The snow has melted away and it’s freezing cold outside but he joins her anyway.

He doesn’t miss the way her eyes linger on the window seat, where she once spilled a few drops of starlight purple nail polish, and she smiles. “God, I’ve missed you so much. So much.”

“You have me now.”

In a way, it’s true.

“But I still miss you,” she whispers, nothing but their voices and the crackling of the street lights. It hurts to even look at her, see the cracks the fighting has made in her soul shine bright with gold, but Bellamy doesn’t look away.

He doesn’t look away and she doesn’t either, staring at him like he’s going to give her all the secrets of the universe.

“You don’t have to anymore. We’re here now.”

“But you’ll leave for college and I’ll miss you again.” She scrunches up her nose, averts her gaze. “It’s not fair.”

He swears he can hear her breath hitching when he presses a kiss to her forehead, trying to be gentle even if she hates all the fragile bullshit everyone has wanted to stamp on her. He wants to tell her that it’s okay to fall apart a little, he wishes someone told him.

He doesn’t.

Instead, he wraps his arms around her and doesn’t let go.

 

*

 

Flowers start blooming around them and Clarke starts going to the soccer practices again. She’s dead tired by the time she gets to the diner and Bellamy doesn’t want to point out that there’s no reason for her to keep coming. His college apps have been filed, he’s hoping he’ll get a full ride for one of his chosen universities, and he’s still a mess whenever he thinks about Octavia.

But it’s easier when Clarke takes a seat in the last booth, and says, “I need coffee. A lot of it. Please.”

She starts carrying her gym bag again and drawing in class. When he sees her in Kane’s office again, she doesn’t have a single scratch on her and she informs him that she’s there to discuss student council elections next year.

Bellamy is visibly relieved and she presses a peck to his cheek.

“I’ve even stopped smoking.”

In April, he gets a letter from Ark University, half an hour away. In April, Bellamy Blake wakes up even before he’s had his first cup of coffee because they’re offering him a full ride and complete understanding of his situation.

In April, he tells Clarke as much and she kisses him in the middle of the cafeteria, uncaring of the world around them.

At first, he doesn’t know what to do and she steps away, averts her gaze like she always does when she’s feeling vulnerable but does her best not to show it.

The silence falls heavy on the room and then he kisses her back, slides his hands into her hair as her fingers bunch up his shirt around his waist and the world is good, the world is bright and red and orange and everything. Cheers split the silence open wide and Clarke smiles into the kiss, moans into his mouth when he bites into her lower lip and he doesn’t give a single fuck that everyone’s watching.

In April, Clarke bakes an apple pie for Octavia and drags him out onto the rooftop to kiss the living sense out of him, fervent and eager like she’d been wanting to do this for a long time.

“I have,” she tells him, petulant, when he calls her out on it. Her hand is searing hot against the skin of his hip, roaming and trailing up. “You were just clueless and the timing wasn’t right.”

So Bellamy kisses her again because he doesn’t know what to do with this warmth blooming in his chest when she looks at him, when she takes his arm and drapes it around her shoulders, humming contentedly in the middle of their school hallway, like all is right with the world.

He still doesn’t believe it until May, the party Wells and Raven throw in his celebration. She’s still prickly and he’s still sweet, but they’re Bellamy’s friends and he loves them all the same.

They dance to crappy music Bellamy hates until Murphy finds the sense to change the CD into something “more normal, for fuck’s sake. Not everyone loves this synthetic shit, Reyes.” and Clarke slides in next to him, fitting herself to his side like that’s exactly the place she wants to be.

A month and he’s still unable to believe that he gets this, that he gets her. That their wedding when they were nine was an omen of what’s to come.

“It’s been a month, Bellamy. Don’t propose just yet,” she teases him when he tells her as much, wrapping her lips around a bottle of cherry Coke. Her feet are in his lap on Wells’ porch, summer whispering in the air around them.

Soon enough, cicadas will get louder than their thoughts and grandmothers are going to bust out their best iced teas, but right now it’s chilly enough for her to take his jacket when he offers.

“I proposed when we were nine, come on.”

She acknowledges him with a nod. “And it was very romantic. _Clarke, you either marry me or I’m leaving with my toys_ ,” she mimics his voice and the stern face he carried around those days. Then she breaks out into a grin. “You were so charming I simply had to.”

“You just did it for my Legos.”

She shakes her head incredulously and drops the Coke in favor of shifting into his lap and sliding her hands into his hair, playing with the curls on the nape of his neck. “Not doing it for Legos now.”

Bellamy raises his eyebrows, feels the familiar fluttering in his chest that always seems to replace his insides whenever she’s near. It’s like – it’s like she’s _hope_ , even with all of her hard edges. It’s like he knows nothing can go wrong when she’s near.

It’s a lot like what he imagines falling in love would be.

But then again, he’s been in love with Clarke Griffin ever since they were kids hanging off the monkey bars.

“What are you doing it for, then?”

She kisses his temple, infinitely light. “For your stubbornness.” Her lips press against his right cheekbone. “For these freckles right here.” Her mouth covers the scar above his lip, a fond reminder that the two of them really used to be daredevils. “For always helping me up.”

Finally, she kisses him and her love tastes a lot like the cherry Coke she was drinking. It tingles its way down his throat, itching and scratching in the best way, every prickle reminding him of how good it feels to be alive.

“For being my friend, mostly,” she says and smiles. “For letting me be yours.”

He tucks a stray curl behind her ear, lets his fingers linger there and watches her close her eyes like she wants to savor the moment.

They’ll get a lot of moments like these, he knows. They’re on the right track.

“I’m in love with you.” It doesn’t feel as heavy as he thought it would. It feels as light as the wind caressing his cheeks, making her dress flutter in the night air.

And Clarke opens her eyes, a slow, lazy smile melting its way onto her lips. “I know. I’ve always known.”

There are things in life so beautiful they hurt and Clarke underneath the soft yellow light, a sundress rucking up at her thighs and a smile that is finally reaching her eyes is one of them.

And, for the first time in his life, Bellamy welcomes the pain.

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> That's it! If you guys liked it, please let me know - kudos & comments are a great way to do that! 
> 
> And if you haven't done it already - go wish [Michelle](http://bellakeyblake.tumblr.com) a happy birthday, she's the loveliest!


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